


Out of Fire, Hope

by morwen_of_gondor



Series: The General and the Grand Admiral [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, At least as far as the Silmarillion is concerned, Developing Friendships, Epic Bromance, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Yuuzhan Vong War, in the Star Wars-verse this is a proper fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwen_of_gondor/pseuds/morwen_of_gondor
Summary: Maedhros intended his leap into a fiery chasm in the ruins of Beleriand to be the end. He did not intend for it to end in him going splat on a durasteel floor.Leia Organa did not sign up for this day. A strange man has just fallen from the ceiling, and Grand Admiral Thrawn issmiling. Force help her.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo & Leia Organa, Maedhros | Maitimo & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo & Leia Organa
Series: The General and the Grand Admiral [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748641
Comments: 27
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The previous story was supposed to be a standalone. I swear. Really.
> 
> My brain had other plans. What can I say, I'm a sucker for fix-its and this one wanted to be written.
> 
> If you haven't read my previous fic _The General and the Grand Admiral,_ this will make absolutely no sense to you.
> 
> Warning (and T rating) for suicidal thoughts and actions. More spoiler-y details - including why I didn't warn for major character death - in the endnotes to Chapter 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember that one-shot I was gonna start? Yeah, it's not a one-shot anymore. It might be a two-shot. We'll see.
> 
> Anyhow, here goes Chapter 1. Note that this is not as light-hearted as its predecessor; see the warnings in the general notes. 
> 
> (I know that the email server is down right now, but I'm posting this anyway. See, I can be on schedule for some things!)

Maedhros watched Maglor run desperately towards the sea, urged onward by the burning pain that Maedhros knew must torment him as he held the Silmaril, and found that he had no strength left to follow. His strength had been for his Oath and for his brothers. The Oath was silent, now, the place where it had burned in his mind like a brand now black and empty like a cold hearth. And the last of his brothers had gone beyond his reach. Maedhros slowly rose to his feet from where he had fallen to his knees with the pain, walking like an old Man, hunched around the white-hot agony that shot through his hand from the shining gem that he could neither hold nor release.

Slowly he stumbled on, through a land as black and burned as his mind, that was ever and anon illumined by the dire light of the flames that sprang up from cracks in the tortured earth that had once been Beleriand. How long he walked like that he could not say. Maglor was out of sight, as was the camp of the Valar. In the end, he found that he was standing on the edge of one such chasm. The flames leaped up as though to meet him, and he remembered, suddenly, his last sight of his father, as Fëanor’s body crumbled into ash, consumed by the fiery spirit for which he had been named.

Maedhros was conscious of no thoughts as he stood on the edge, but had he had strength to voice them, they would have run thus:

_What is left for me now?_

_The Oath? It is ended._

_My brothers? They are slain or gone._ And then, like a whisper, came the words, _What of Maglor?_ but he found no answer to them.

 _Mercy,_ he would have cried, but the answer to that was swift and stern, _You have rejected mercy. You have given no mercy, and no mercy shall be given to you._

 _Nothing, then,_ he thought, with a terrible, empty kind of relief.

 _Nothing._ He stepped over the edge.

What followed was not something he ever understood. There seemed to be voices speaking, or at least he understood words, but he could see no speakers, and the whole conversation seemed to happen in the instant when he knew that his weight had shifted forward to the point that he could no longer arrest his fall. The two voices, though he did not _hear_ them with his ears, nevertheless sounded very different to him. The first voice was gentle and sorrowful, and sounded much like the impulses that the Oath had driven out of him over the years — no, let there be no lies in death — the impulses he had pushed aside for the Oath’s sake. The second was as inexorable as death, as cold as steel, and as stern as justice itself, and yet it was a _good_ voice, though not a safe one.

 _It is not wholly true that he has shown no mercy,_ said the first voice.

 _He has shown little enough,_ said the second.

_He sought for the children of Dior._

_Too late to do any good._

_He cared for Elwing’s twins._

_Because his brother took them and would not leave them._

_He took in the outcast son of another world and was a friend to him._

_That is true. Very well, then. For the sake of the kindness he once showed to an outcast, kindness shall be shown to him, though he did not ask for it. Let him return to that world._

As he fell, Maedhros let the Silmaril slip from his hand at last. A vaguely familiar box, which he did not remember carrying, crossed his vision. Then there was a thud, and darkness.

Leia Organa might have been elected Empress of the reformed Galactic Empire, but that did not mean she had to like it. And Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had, together with a rather mysterious and now notably absent individual whom popular report declared to be a missing Jedi General, been largely responsible for the above-mentioned reforms, was, she suspected, enjoying her dislike of the throne more than was strictly kind.

Today was the day of the month reserved for petitions, when any citizen with a grievance could come and present his or her case before the Empress and ask for redress. The petitions ranged from the truly absurd to the tragic, and Leia always ended the day with the feeling that she had genuinely helped a good number of people and had submitted to having her time utterly wasted by the remainder.

Her advisors took in turns at attending her during such functions, and today it was Thrawn’s turn. She preferred Luke, who was a steady, reassuring presence in the light side of the Force, to Thrawn, whose mind was an unreadable enigma, but she also preferred Thrawn to the more-or-less-reformed General Skywalker, still known to most of the galaxy as Darth Vader, who was usually a tornado of barely-controlled self-reproach and pain. (Master Kenobi steadfastly declared that he was _"not brave enough for politics"_ and refused to have anything to do with the Empire except to train Luke and (when she had time for it) Leia in the ways of the Force. Leia suspected that this might have something to do with General Skywalker’s continued presence in the government, but she had enough on her plate without sorting those two out.)

Odd as petition days sometimes were, the absolute last thing she was expecting was for the Force to _twist_ suddenly, the room to take on a nauseating tilt, and a strange man to materialise out of thin air about six feet in front of her and about six feet in the air and land face-down on the floor with a heavy _thud_ before anyone could move. Thrawn was out of his seat and standing between her and the stranger, blaster in hand, before she had quite recovered from the extremely disorienting sensation of reality simply _shifting_ like that.

The remainder of her guards, though slower to react than Thrawn, were soon flanking the strange man, but he did not move. She reached out to get a sense of him in the Force, and then drew back into her own mind with the distinct sensation that she had put her (metaphorical) hand into a star. His signature was not stronger, necessarily, than others she had felt, but it was _hot_. She had, however, learned what she wanted to know: the man was unquestionably Force-sensitive, though untrained, but equally unquestionably unconscious. She said as much to the guards, and they drew back. Thrawn holstered his blaster and carefully turned the stranger over, and then looked up to meet Leia’s eyes with an honest-to-goodness smile (albeit a small one). "You wished to meet my mysterious ally in reforming the Empire, your Majesty, and it seems the universe wished to gratify your curiosity, as it has just deposited him on your doorstep."

Then, upon taking a closer look at the prone form, he added, looking almost _worried (two visible expressions from Thrawn in one day, what was the world coming to?),_ "However, I believe we should call a medic. He has some burns that appear to need medical attention."

Leia, still processing the fact that Thrawn was capable of smiling, gestured mechanically to the guards.

Maedhros returned to consciousness slowly. The first thought he was truly conscious of was, _The halls of Mandos have a smell? And they smell…sweet?_ Then he opened his eyes, and found himself staring at a perfectly white ceiling that was vaguely familiar in shape. He tried to sit up and discovered two things: first, he still had a body, and, second, it hurt.

Together with the odd smell and the very square white ceiling, that bit of information was enough to persuade him that he was not in Mandos. The next logical question was, _Where am I?_ He did not realise that he had said this aloud until a familiar voice from somewhere on his left replied, "Welcome to Coruscant, Maedhros."

He spun to face the voice as quickly as he could — which was not as quickly as he would have liked — and met the glowing red eyes of a friend whom he had never expected to see again. "Thrawn? I truly live, then," he added as an afterthought.

Thrawn’s eyes widened fractionally, which was as close as he ever came to looking surprised. "Yes, you are very much alive, although your burns, as I understand, are still healing."

That explained the pain, but _not_ his presence, either in this world or this body. "I do not understand," he said slowly. 

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "When last I checked, neither of us understood how I came to be in your world, or how you came to be in mine."

"No," Maedhros said, "not that. I died. I jumped."

"Jumped?" That was a new voice, which sounded rather alarmed. Maedhros turned to face it, and saw a slight woman clad in white robes, her hair done in an elaborate braid which resembled something Artanis might have worn for a court function in Tirion. 

"Empress Organa, may I present General Maedhros Fëanorion. Maedhros, Empress Leia Organa."

Maedhros gave the young Empress the best bow his recumbent position would allow. Concern was writ large on her features, but she graciously did not refer to the conversation she had overheard, instead saying, "Grand Admiral Thrawn has informed me that I have you to thank in large part for the reformed Empire which I lead. And while he certainly knows" (this with an amused glance at the Chiss) "that I had no wish to lead it, this situation is infinitely better than some of the alternatives."

Maedhros found that he was speechless. Thrawn came to his rescue, if his most scorching sarcasm counted as a rescue, with, "I believe that you are aware of the human custom of thanking others for compliments?"

"Thank you, your Majesty," Maedhros said softly, and found himself almost smiling, an unfamiliar sensation these days. Never let it be said that Maedhros did not know a hint when he saw one. Even if, most of the time, he ignored them anyway. (That was an uncomfortable thought, and he pushed it away.)

Empress Organa disappeared again, saying something about medics and being chased out at the end of a scalpel. Evidently some things remained constant in all worlds, though he suspected that her disappearance had more to do with allowing him to finish his conversation with Thrawn in private than with any real concern about being hounded out by medics.

Thrawn, once concerned for a friend’s welfare, was not to be put off by momentary distractions. He returned to the prior topic of conversation, dashing Maedhros’ hopes that he would not be questioned about that injudicious statement soon, or ever. "You jumped?"

Maedhros supposed that, since he was going to have to explain himself at some point, it might as well be now. "I did tell you that I was a fool when we first met," he said wearily. He had already explained in some measure about the Oath; he told the rest of the story now, including all that had happened since his return to Middle-Earth, from Doriath to his decision to jump and that last sight of the enigmatic box. He even included the half-remembered conversation between the two voices. Thrawn had, after all, experienced enough strange things with Maedhros that he knew better than to dismiss even the most outlandish ideas out of hand, and his story once begun, Maedhros did not have either the energy or the will to lie or omit, even if he wished to. Thrawn remained silent after he finished. "Well?" Maedhros asked.

"Are you going to do it again?"

Maedhros considered. "No," he decided. "I slew my kin for the Oath. The Oath is gone, and I have no wish to drench my hands in blood again, unless it be the blood of orcs. If I tried to die again, perhaps I would return to Beleriand, and as it is now, I have no wish to do so. And it was not so much that I wished to die, even then, as that there was nothing left to live for. There is still work to do here, is there not?" As he said the last, he was struck by a sudden fear that he might not be wanted here — that an Elf who had stained his hands with the blood of his own kindred not once, but four times, might be as much an object of revulsion to the young Empress and her court as he was to his own kind.

"The Yuuzhan Vong…"

"Orcs," Maedhros interjected, out of habit.

Thrawn continued, ignoring the interruption, thought the corner of his mouth twitched, "…are not yet defeated, though we are holding them at bay for now. Your presence would be welcomed, as much by the government as by our men. I believe Vice Admiral Pellaeon misses you, although I doubt he would ever admit to it."

Maedhros’ brain simply ceased to function for a moment, rather like one of Curufin’s elaborate contraptions in its early stages of development. "Welcomed? After all I have done?" He would not ordinarily have been so forthright, but his thoughts seemed to be coming out of his mouth more bluntly than usual. _I am in the healers’ wing, after all; who knows what they have given me,_ he thought wryly. 

The corners of Thrawn’s mouth lifted very slightly. "Our plans to…return General Skywalker to himself, as you once put it, proved successful. If the New Empire can manage Darth Vader, they can doubtless manage you."

Maedhros decided that the healers had definitely given him something, as his throat had suddenly closed off and his eyes were burning. Thrawn graciously waited for him to regain his voice. When he did, he was reduced, for the second time that day, to a simple, "Thank you." 

A string of indistinct grumbling — yes, some things really were constant across all worlds — announced the impending arrival of a medic. Thrawn held out his left hand to Maedhros, who clasped his wrist firmly in gratitude. The last thing he remembered was letting go, rather reluctantly. After that he must have fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rated teen because of Maedhros, who is a hot mess that could singlehandedly keep a therapist or three in business for years. Specifically, he jumps into a lava-filled chasm at the beginning of the story with the intent of committing suicide. I didn't warn for major character death because he doesn't succeed, and spends much of the rest of the fic dealing with that fact.
> 
> Before you protest that Leia would never allow herself to be made empress, allow me to explain: the trappings of the Empire were in large part retained in Thrawn and Maedhros’ reforms, in order to maintain an illusion of continuity for the politicians, but the internal structure was changed considerably. The position of "Emperor" or "Empress" is now much more like the position of Queen on Naboo, namely an elected office with term limits (Leia insisted on the latter), and it functions as the executive branch of the government, while the legislative functions have been returned to the Imperial Senate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maedhros is allowed out of sickbay and meets an unexpected old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this week, but hopefully a certain old friend's return will make up for it...

Maedhros was allowed out of the healers’ wing rather sooner than he would have expected. He had forgotten how effective the medicine of Thrawn’s world could be. Upon his release, he found that a uniform in his size had been produced from somewhere, complete with a rank plaque which marked him as a general, and also that he had been given access to one of the guest rooms in what was, apparently, the Imperial Palace — in fact, that he evidently warranted an escort to that room, as a man in livery was now leading him there. They were crossing one of the larger hallways, which, in a palace which seemed even larger than Doriath’s cave complex, was saying something, when another uniformed man stopped in his tracks, did what Captain (no, Vice Admiral, now, he would have to remember that) Pellaeon would have called a "double take," and exclaimed, "You!" in a tone of voice somewhere between indignant surprise and remembered alarm. 

Maedhros looked more closely at his face, and found that it was rather familiar, though older than when he had last seen it, looking at him in confusion…"Gail?" he asked.

"You!" the man repeated. "What in the Nine Hells did I do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, I am Commander Gail, and Grand Admiral Thrawn has been _smirking_ at me for the past fifteen _years_ , when I’ve never seen him so much as crack a smile at anyone else on the Chimaera, with the possible exception of Vice Admiral Pellaeon when he was Captain, so permit me to repeat, what in the Nine Corellian Hells did I do that was so funny?"

 _Oh dear._ "It was nothing you did."

Gail was not to be deterred. "What was it then?"

Maedhros sighed. "Your name. In one of the tongues of my people, it means 'fish'."

The man’s eyes nearly started from his head, and then he slapped his knee and burst out laughing. Finally, he managed to choke out, "You mean to tell me that the Grand Admiral Thrawn himself, Reformer of the Empire, First Adviser to the Empress, the only man outside the Skywalker family who could tell Darth Vader _no_ and not get strangled, has been looking at me all these years and thinking 'Commander _Fish_ '?"

"Well, yes, I’m afraid. I am sorry."

"That wasn’t a coughing fit you had in his office when you found me. You were laughing."

There was nothing for it but honesty now. "Yes. I had a headache, which is evidently a side effect of inter-universal transportation, and was rather…disoriented. Otherwise I doubt that I would have said anything."

At this juncture, Thrawn rounded the corner, perhaps looking for Maedhros or perhaps on some errand of his own, and stopped when he saw them conversing. Commander Gail saluted smartly, but this time he matched Thrawn’s smirk — and yes, the Chiss was definitely smirking — with one of his own. "Maedhros, Commander Gail," Thrawn said calmly by way of greeting.

"I think you mean Commander Fish, sir," Gail said, still standing at attention.

Thrawn turned to Maedhros, and asked, "You told him?"

"He asked," Maedhros replied with a shrug. 

"As you were, Commander," Thrawn said to Gail, who promptly relaxed and resumed his interrupted fit of laughter, though a little more quietly.

"Well, perhaps it was time for an explanation," Thrawn said cooly. 

This statement was punctuated by another snort of laughter from Gail, who shortly afterwards recovered himself enough to ask, "You knew how nervous that made me, sir?"

"Naturally." Thrawn evidently did not feel compelled to elaborate upon that statement, and Gail took the hint. 

To Maedhros’ immense surprise, the commander saluted them both before departing, still chuckling to himself. Before he rounded a corner, Maedhros heard him mutter to himself, "Now that will be a story and a half for the mess today!"

"The empress’ brother wishes to speak with you," Thrawn said by way of an explanation for his presence. 

"And he sent you to find me?"

"He wishes to meet with me also, and I believe he felt that you would be more comfortable with a familiar face."

"Lead on, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ensign Fish returns! I had to give the poor boy (well, not so much of a boy anymore) some closure after all the misery I put him through in the last fic.
> 
> Also, this thing has grown yet _another_ chapter. Help me. Thrawn and Maedhros have hijacked my brain and are not giving it back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maedhros meets the brother of the Empress, discusses medical technology, and settles into place in his new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update, sorry, but it's here at last, the final chapter!

Luke Skywalker was a most interesting person. Like his sister, he was far shorter than Maedhros — though that was true of most mortals — but bore an air of power beyond either his race or stature. He took Maedhros’ hand in both of his own with a wide smile, and said earnestly, "Thank you for bringing my father back to me, General."

"I do not think I can take credit for that, Lord Organa."

"Just Luke, please, and my family name’s Skywalker if you really want to use it. I’m not nobility, and my family owes you too much for me to want to stand on ceremony anyway. As for my father, the Grand Admiral here tells a rather different story."

 _So General Skywalker’s son had accepted both his parentage and his father’s name._ "Then I am Maedhros. And far be it from me to contradict the Grand Admiral, though I believe he may have somewhat underestimated his own role in bringing that plan to fruition."

"Funny enough, he said the same thing about you. Before we get dragged off into the weeds of the _mutual admiration society,_ though, I’m sure you have quite a lot of questions to ask, so I took it upon myself to answer them in a shameless abuse of my position, because I’m rather curious about you."

Thrawn had faded into the background and wore an expression that Maedhros recognised as meaning that he had set something in motion and was waiting to see how it would turn out. Maedhros wondered how much his friend had told this strange youth about his history. Probably nothing beyond their shared history; Thrawn was not one to discuss others _in absentia_ for any reason less than national security, and he evidently did not believe Maedhros to be a threat to that. (Which, of course, he was not, as the Oath was no longer in play, but he was very much unused to that idea at present.)

Regardless of what Luke knew, there could only be one answer to his implied question at the moment. "I am at your disposal," he said.

"Well, thank you, but the idea was for me to be at yours as well. Surely you want to know _something?_ "

Maedhros considered. "How, exactly, did I come to be here? The last thing I remember is…" and he hesitated, "falling."

Luke grinned cheerfully. "Well, falling is absolutely right. As far as I know, you just sort of landed with a thud right in front of Leia’s throne in the middle of an audience. Gave her a bit of a scare, I think. You certainly scared the guards. Their training did _not_ cover strange men materialising in mid-air in the throne room."

"That must have been…interesting."

"Leia telling me about that was one of the oddest comm-calls I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something given that I’ve had to try to explain to the Rebel Alliance that Father had joined a plot to overthrow the emperor and would be grateful for their cooperation."

"My apologies."

"None necessary. I’m glad you’re here."

Maedhros took a deep breath. He did not want to say what he was about to, but honesty demanded it. "I am not sure you would be if you knew more of my past."

Skywalker looked keenly at him. "You sound like Father," he said finally. "Do you have any plans to undermine our government?"

Maedhros blinked. "No, of course I would not. I owe you a great debt of gratitude."

"Good. Any plans to attack me, or Leia, or…well, anyone?"

"No."

"Planning to turn to the Sith?"

Maedhros was indignant, and then checked himself. Luke had every right to ask such a question of someone like him. "No," he said, a little sadly.

"Then I fail to see the problem," Luke said. Maedhros stared at him in confusion, but before he could respond, Luke continued, looking at the stump of Maedhros’ right wrist around which the Elf had reflexively closed his left hand as he spoke, "You know, we could fit you with a prosthetic to replace that if you wanted it. I have one," he added, waving his right hand, which was in no way different from the left as far as Maedhros could see, in a demonstrative fashion. 

Still marvelling at Luke’s complete lack of worry about his past, but finding his curiosity piqued, Maedhros looked closely at the hand. Luke obligingly rolled up his sleeve to reveal a thin, silver scar that ran all the way around his arm. "That was a straight cut," Maedhros said in surprise. "May I ask how it happened?"

"I think that might be a story for another day," Luke replied wryly.

Maedhros accepted the reply and returned to considering Luke’s offer. Thrawn had once mentioned that his missing hand could be replaced. At the time, Maedhros had refused; he’d had a suspicion that he would be returned to his own world sooner or later and a regrown hand would be difficult to explain. Now, however…Maedhros the One-Handed, for all that the orcs _fled from his face_ , had been a terror of childrens’ nightmares as well, and in this world his legend no longer followed him, either for good or ill, so there was no advantage to be gained from refusing the prosthetic. It was a strange thought for many reasons, but…having two hands was always useful on the field. 

"This is an old injury," he said. "Is it still possible to…replace…the hand?"

"That might make it a bit harder, but our family has the single best team of doctors on the planet, and they’ve seen much worse."

"Then yes," Maedhros said slowly, "I think I would like that."

From the brilliant grin Luke gave him, Maedhros guessed that the young lord — he was brother to an Empress, surely he had to be one — had guessed that he was thinking of more than just his hand. "I’ll make the arrangements, then, and if you want to know anything else, just ask me," he said. "For now, though, Leia’s called a council of war to deal with the latest developments with the Yuuzhan Vong, and we’d be very glad for your advice."

"Then I am at your service," Maedhros replied, and fell into step with Thrawn, following Skywalker through the palace halls and marvelling at how quickly his life had been upended. Perhaps someday there would be healing for him, he thought, here with his friend and the strange young mortals who wielded power beyond their race and yet looked at him with compassion rather than horror. For now, there was a war to fight with his friend at his side. For the first time in a long time, Maedhros found that he was looking forward to that.

He did not hear the voices that spoke of him this time.

 _He will not live so long in this world as he would in the land of his home,_ said the voice of sorrow.

_True. But short as the span of mortal years will seem to him, he would not wish to live forever without his new-made friends._

_No. And he will tread your Halls with lighter step than he would otherwise._

_I do not know that he will long remain in them._

_He will be allowed to return?_

_Or to accompany his friends beyond the walls of the world and find peace._

_A strange fate, to give up immortality for the friendship of mortals._

_No stranger than to be the son of two worlds._

_The House of Fëanor has never been content to live like others._ For a moment, a tone of fond amusement took the place of grief.

_Neither has the House of Skywalker._

_They are well met, then._

_They are. My spouse will be weaving the tales of their deeds for many years to come ere they enter my halls, and upon her tapestries they shall endure until the ending of the world and beyond._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, quick explanation for those of you who aren't massive Tolkien nerds:  
> The two voices belong to Mandos and Nienna. Mandos is the Vala (essentially little-g god) who rules the dead, and he's heavily associated with justice. His Halls are the place where the souls of Elves reside either permanently until or until they're reembodied, and through which the souls of Men pass on their journey out of the world. Nienna is his sister, a Valië (feminine form of Vala) who is most associated with grief and compassion. Mandos' wife is Vairë, who weaves the stories of the world's history into tapestries, which adorn Mandos' Halls. 
> 
> In the conversation at the end of this chapter, Mandos is hinting that Maedhros may have been made properly mortal, and thus will be allowed to leave the world forever when he dies and be at peace with his friends rather than staying in Mandos' Halls permanently or being reembodied without them.
> 
> The conversations between Mandos and Nienna are heavily inspired by a couple of dialogues between a voice of justice and a voice of mercy which take place in Tolkien's lovely short story "Leaf by Niggle," which I strongly recommend.
> 
> Kudos to anyone who tracks down the 'mutual admiration society' quote. ;-)


End file.
